I saw him last night at Jonathan Wild's, after my escape from the New Prison. “You must be the Miss Pellissier of whom David has told me so much,” he said, shyly. Byrom,—a poet of whom his native town, Manchester, may be justly proud; and his features and figure have been preserved by the most illustrious of his companions on the present occasion,—Hogarth,—in the levée in the "Rake's Progress," and in "Southwark Fair. What's it like, Joan?" "It's a small key, with curiously-fashioned wards.
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